Boredom and Curiosity

Yesterday I shaved off all my pubic hair. Not like with a razor or anything, if that makes it any less weird. It just happened. I was lying in bed naked and the hair clippers were charging on the bedside table. Fate? I ask you.

Heaps of guys do it – I know at least three. It’s supposed to make your junk look bigger. Here’s where I make a joke about not needing to make it look bigger… but... well… I was curious. Men like me climbed Everest. Men like me claimed sovereignty to land they “discovered.” Men like me mowed their man-muff. Why? Because it was there… and fuck it, I wasn’t doing anything else that morning.

I would never usually consider giving my balls a buzz-cut. I reckon it looks freaky. The fact is, I’m right - something that big should have hair on it. Male or female. I seriously worry about people who are attracted to hairlessness. If that’s your ‘bag’, go fuck a manatee or admit you’re a paedophile. Your choice.

I don’t get my dick out in public nearly often as I used to. Still, I was worried that someone might get a look at my newly-nudes and assume that that floated my bloated. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. I can’t imagine anything more embarrassing than getting to that point with a lady – her hand sliding down the front of your pants and getting a handful of pink and pricklies.

“What is that? A baby echidna?”
‘…um, yeah… that’s what it is…’
“It really should be in a sanctuary for orphaned wildlife.”
*long pause*
‘…I guess there’s no chance of me convincing you to eat it now!?’

How-eh-vah, the gods of fate and fortune dangled a now-or-never-moment in front of my ever adventurous eyes. I’m in a remote community, quite safe in the knowledge that here is no fucking chance that I’ll have a girl’s hand in my pants for months. Bless this sexlessness. If I ever wanted to see myself pubeless, this was a genuine opportunity with no risk of embarrassment. A change is a good as a holiday – I bought my dick a pair of sunglasses and off it came.

There are so few decisions in life that you can IMMEDIATELY REGRET. This was one. My balls were cut to shit, everything itched, and that little creature from the Alien films was winking up at me – smug little prick. It’s official; my woolly mammoth needs his afro. Now, when I peer into my pants, I don’t know whether to piss or scratch it under the chin and feed it milk from a bottle.

The most difficult bits were the man-scaping decisions. Hair runs an unbroken line from my neck to my toes. I basically carved a clearing, like a pair of tiny pink budgie-smugglers, only with the parrot on the outside. I look fucking ridiculous. My penis now has no attractive qualities whatsoever. It just looks like some fleshy extendable tube used for depositing semen into dark places. Get thee to a fig leaf. Thankyou, wise serpent.

The only thing vaguely sexy about it is when I inch my hand down the front of my own pants it reminds me of the short and spikies of girls I’ve known before… that is, until I hit dick. Then it reminds me of that time in Thailand.

*starts singing and dancing to Karma Chameleon*

So the question remains – does it look any bigger? Well… yeah, I guess… a bit… but when you think about it, I was always this big whether I looked it or not. Besides, if you’ve been invited to take it out that battle is already won. It looks like a dick. It’s not about to win ‘best in show’ at Westminster.